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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23727784">Not Alike</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sanders Sides (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Referenced sexual situations, Roman Can Lucid Dream, Romantic RemRom, Sibling Incest, The Opposite of a Magnum Opus, please read the tags, some standard remus shenanigans, sympathetic everyone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 23:14:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,469</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23727784</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Roman and Remus have different ways of coming to terms with things.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>69</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Not Alike</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello and welcome! Please read the tags. If you don't care for remrom, you will absolutely not enjoy this fic.<br/>This is not in my Sanders Sides continuity at all, but hopefully someone out there will like it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Appearances </em>
</p>
<p>Remus found himself searching his reflection for anything that resembled his twin. After a time, it was easier to think of him and hold the picture of him in his mind; all it took was a little practice. </p>
<p>True, he saw Roman every day. However, the Duke so often thought of bad things.  <em> What if people find out you’re disgusting you’re disgusting what’s so wrong with that… </em>That was easy to remember without wanting to. </p>
<p>The image of Roman was diametrically opposed. He was good and kind, his smile sweet and his soul bright. At first, that hadn’t been an easy image to keep in mind, because it was <em> good </em> and <em> he </em>was good and the Duke wasn’t like that. That was why he had to tear up his drawings and photographs, because he couldn't help but look at them wrong. He didn't ever want to do that, ever again.</p>
<p>(Why keep the divine next to the profane?)</p>
<p>So he found a way. He would compare his own figure to what he remembered King Romulus looking like, and discern what didn’t carry over. Whatever features Remus lacked had to be Roman’s, and vice versa. He’d study pictures, he’d paint portraits in his memory, and assemble the idea of him bit by bit by bit. <em> Gorgeous laugh, slightly plump, sword in hand and enemies vanquished– yes, that's him. That's Roman. </em></p>
<p>Something in his mind still screamed that he shouldn’t be thinking of him. He was vaguely aware that this thing was keeping him from dwelling on Roman for too long.</p>
<p>But nothing in Hell or Earth could stop the Duke from thinking of something.</p>
<p>(What part of <em> unwelcome thoughts </em>was left not understood?)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Roman didn't have a problem picturing his brother. In fact, he was able to draw him without a frame of reference, simply recalling everything by well-trodden memories. At first, it was the scribble of lime crayon, then the careful pencil sketch in the margins of a notebook, then the charcoal on mixed media paper. Then the handsome face and bright eyes came into his mind, as unchangeable as granite.</p>
<p>He had gotten a good look at him when they fell apart, after all. He could never forget it.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p>
  <em>Shame</em>
</p>
<p>At first, the only person Remus had ever been shy about letting know had been Roman, but Deceit had caught him just before all went wrong. He took the time and taught him shame, and taught how to hide those feelings.</p>
<p>“You shouldn’t give out your affections as easily as you give out your name, Remus.”</p>
<p>“I still don’t know your name!”</p>
<p>“Good. The fewer people know it, the better.” Deceit sighed. There was a rumor in the mind that he simply never got a name; it was at times like these that the rumor was almost completely believable.</p>
<p>But it really was a miserable life, wasn’t it, not having anyone...</p>
<p>No time to think about it, Deceit seemed to say as he cleared his throat. "All right. Now, when they ask, say- ...no, no, no, Remus, don't weep, you were really fine before..."</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>Roman hadn’t told anyone how he felt. He kept his mouth shut and pretended that it was simply shameful lust and nothing more.</p>
<p>If it was something more...</p>
<p>Well, out of sight meant out of mind.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p>
  <em>First Time</em>
</p>
<p>Remus’ first time was <em> almost </em> with Virgil.</p>
<p>“So, er, you like someone else?” he asked him.</p>
<p>“Why the hell did you think that’d be a good question?” Virgil scoffed, slipping off his shoes before getting onto the bed. He was still fully-clothed, with Remus still in his sleeping-clothes and under the blankets, and back then, Virgil wasn’t Anxiety at all. He was Paranoia. “And you? Well, it’s not worth asking… I already know who.”</p>
<p>“You– you <em> do?” </em></p>
<p>Virgil exhaled, sitting up on the bed. “I’m not sure what part of <em> Paranoia </em> eluded you. I suspect the worst, I always have, I pick out clues… and the way that you look at him isn’t something that brothers <em> do. </em>”</p>
<p>“You don’t seem to approve.”</p>
<p>“Honestly, I don’t think you should care what I think.” Virgil glanced away, teasing a loose thread on his hoodie.</p>
<p>“I… Yes, it’s true. He's horribly dear to me."</p>
<p>Virgil didn’t say anything for a long time. The cold rush of air from the open window startled Remus a bit, and the sense of being permanently on edge filled his mind. </p>
<p>“You’re scaring me,” Remus murmured. <em> I know you’re not gonna do anything, but– </em></p>
<p>“Sorry.” The window shut itself, and Virgil settled himself down over the blankets. A half-inch-thick layer of cloth separated the two of them. “I just… Is it okay if I speak my mind on something? Like, honestly?”</p>
<p>“This sorta arrangement <em> requires </em>honesty, Virgil.”</p>
<p>“Paranoia’s fine.”</p>
<p>“Oh. Okay, then… Paranoia.”</p>
<p>Paranoia turned to him. “I don’t think I want to have sex right now. Rephrase: I don’t want to.”</p>
<p>“We don't have to fuck if you don't want it."</p>
<p>“Honestly, I don’t think that <em>you</em> want to, either. Not with me, anyways, Remus. You'll be wishing I was him, I'll be wishing you were someone else too. It'll be a mess.”</p>
<p>"You're right, you're right. Hey! Why not make puppets out of chicken liv-"</p>
<p>
  <em>"No."</em>
</p>
<p>Instead, the early morning was spent watching TV. It was some old horror movie, which Remus liked for the blood and Paranoia liked because it was something he could control and say <em> hey, that’s not happening, everything’s okay, this is something scary that I can back out of whenever. </em></p>
<p>“Do you think I should tell him?” he asked Paranoia.</p>
<p>He shrugged, his arm around Remus’ waist. “I think the worst of everything, you know? I’m not sure. Do what you want to.”</p>
<p>The scent of clean rain filled the air.</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>Roman wanted to say that his first time was like a fairytale. He would have found a handsome prince, ridden off in a lovely horse-drawn carriage, and walked with him into the castle, approaching a rose-petaled bed.</p>
<p>It was not like that at all.</p>
<p>He knew it was just a dream given form by the Imagination. He knew the details of his brother well enough to know that this was not him, just a fantasy pretending. </p>
<p>The eyeball-pin, for instance, was the wrong colour. The teeth on his jacket were supposed to be from people, not from clay. And instead of the slick, strange metallic sweetness of benzene that Remus insisted upon wearing for some reason, Not-Remus had the subtle scent of roses and perfume.</p>
<p>But it felt so much like him. Not enough to fool Roman, but just enough to feel okay and bite back the burning shame and <em> wrongness </em>that had stopped being intoxicating long ago. </p>
<p>“I have always,” and then Not-Remus didn’t need to finish because Roman knew exactly what he wanted to hear.</p>
<p>It was quick, the sort of picture-perfect image of unchained lust and a one-night stand, but then the morning came and everything was hollow, and Not-Remus was so obviously just a fantasy<em> . </em></p>
<p>
  <em> So obviously not him. </em>
</p>
<p>Why did he want it to be him so badly, anyways?</p><hr/>
<p>
  <em>Confessions</em>
</p>
<p>Remus didn’t have to confess to any of the Dark Sides. Virgil obviously already knew (not that he was a dark side, really). Deceit managed to guess. Whatever hid behind that orange veil in the hallway already knew, too.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Roman was cleaning up the kitchen when one of his notebooks fell. Pages scattered across the floor; Patton picked one up.</p>
<p>“Did you read it?!” asked Roman.</p>
<p>Patton glanced down (and Roman realized that it was exactly the wrong question to ask; <em> now </em>and only now was he reading it).</p>
<p>“Oh,” Patton managed to say before settling himself down on the couch. “You can’t say…”</p>
<p>A chill descended over him, settling over and not budging. </p>
<p>“How long?” </p>
<p>“Ever since I saw him.”</p>
<p>Patton took off his glasses. Someow, he looked like he had aged ten years. The weight of the words on the page was too much for both of them, but eventually, Patton managed to say something.</p>
<p>“This isn’t an intrusive thought or anything,” he said, and it wasn’t a question.</p>
<p>“It isn’t.”</p>
<p>“You honestly–”</p>
<p>Something snapped. Roman tried his best to not seem upset, but he wasn’t sure if he was succeeding.</p>
<p>“I <em> know! </em> I know, we’re <em> brothers, </em>I know you’re disgusted and grossed out, and even I can’t tell you how disgusted I am with myself for thinking it, and I just want things to be okay between the two of us!”</p>
<p>The world faded into warmth and salt, his vision blurred and his face wet with tears. The only thing he could make out for sure was Patton’s cross necklace and his heart logo. He registered that someone’s arms were around him before remembering that Patton had gestured as if asking <em> do you need a hug? </em>and he had accepted.</p>
<p>“Roman, I’m sorry,” Patton whispered.</p>
<p>“What for?”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry for ever implying that how you felt was less important than how I’d react to it.”</p>
<p>The two stayed there for a while. Roman knew distantly that he didn’t look like a very good prince.</p>
<p>“I don’t think it’s my place to tell you what to do,” said Patton, gently stroking his hair and choosing his words carefully. “Virgil was Fear before he was Paranoia before he was Anxiety, you were Romulus before you two became yourselves… We’re not like Thomas. We’re Sides.”</p>
<p>“Sometimes we change so easily. Don’t we?”</p>
<p>Some part of him had given up on asking for the page back. What was done was done, and Patton would probably disapprove, and…</p>
<p>Patton’s thumb ran over where the words on the page switched from red ink to black. <em> Ever since I saw you, I have cherished you. </em> </p>
<p>He took and gave back the page. He gave his little characteristic blessing of a smile and a faint adjustment of his necklace. “Which is why something’s so precious when it <em> doesn’t </em>change. You shouldn’t be worried about what I think, but…. Roman, it’d be a mistake to give how you feel up.”</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p>
  <em>Message</em>
</p>
<p>Roman had a letter that he had written in his best handwriting. He also had carved a confession of sorts out of marble.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Remus had a monologue written out, with all sorts of filthy and violent thoughts scratched out with emerald ink. Only his honest sentiments remained.</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>The two sat together on the hill. It was a lovely day in the Imagination, with lots of nice shadows and cool birds and a nice gentle breeze. It was as humid as could be, though; Remus was partial to the mood before a storm.</p>
<p>The two atmospheres shouldn’t have melded well together. But the humid air, sweet dreams, and overall feeling of something unplaceable in the half-light was perfect. Lightning crackled somewhere far-off, the sense of static heavy.</p>
<p>Roman sighed as he reached into his bag.</p>
<p>“Don’t be mad,” he started off saying, and Remus bit down those rays of hope.</p>
<p>“Oh? Why’d I be mad, silly?”</p>
<p>“Because you don’t know what I’m going to say, but I can’t <em> say </em>it. I need you to look at it, instead. Er, could you shut your eyes?”</p>
<p>Remus nodded, covering them.</p>
<p>Roman looked at the carving. King Romulus had been partial to shaping stone and clay; that didn’t make Roman the greatest at it.</p>
<p>
  <em> You cannot pretend like that’s the strongest of your concerns! </em>
</p>
<p>"Promise...? You'll think it's weird."</p>
<p>"Roman, I'm the Duke of Depravity. I <em>welcome </em>weird shit."</p>
<p>Somehow, he pushed aside the thought of everything he had to lose, summoning all of his courage as he put his confession in his other half’s hands.</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>Remus opened his eyes when he felt the warm brush of Roman’s fingers, then the heavy coldness of something made of stone. He looked down.</p>
<p>“Ooh! Is this what you wanted to…”</p>
<p>It was a piece of carved marble. Remus somehow couldn’t place the shape yet. It was hard and heavy, with one side made of elegant mint marble, until the colors melded together near the middle, fading into a beautiful pink quartz. In the half-sunshine, it looked almost sugary as lavender light played off of it.</p>
<p>Remus finally managed to place the shape. It was a heart.</p>
<p>“For me…? You honestly. For me?”</p>
<p>Roman blushed. “It is in a prince’s very nature to be forward about this kind of thing, I suppose. To be brave. But oh, Remus, I didn’t know how else to tell you how I felt, I couldn’t just say it–”</p>
<p>Remus scrambled to take the letter out of his pocket. He saw hope flood Roman’s expression, except this time, there was no other way to react than joy.</p>
<p>He cleared his throat. “I've been waiting, I wrote it out so it’d be perfect– <em> ‘Were I anybody else, you would already know of my affections, but since we are what we are, I have taken far too long to tell you. However– </em>oh, fuck it, it’ll take all day, I’ll give it to you later!”</p>
<p>“Remus, do you mean to say that you...?”</p>
<p>All Remus could do was nod. Happiness was taking a little while to set in, at least until Roman let out a little noise of joy, his smile so wide and his laugh so sweet as he wrapped his arms around Remus’ waist.</p>
<p>Then everything began to register. The sunset, the emerald ink, the little lump of stone next to them on the oak-green grass, and the scent of roses and perfume…. It wasn’t like a veil had been lifted, but there was the sense of something wonderful beginning to start, evading what words he could use exactly, but still present, still wonderful– </p>
<p>For the first time in a long time, the Duke wept tears of gratefulness.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>If Roman had to describe what he was feeling, he’d compare it to those moments where Thomas was stargazing after a storm, when the rusted metal of some junkyard or storm-drain was still dripping rain and the air was dew-heavy. The clouds would part, and then the Milky Way would dazzle, and it was so <em> perfect </em>that he could never let it go.</p>
<p>If Remus had to describe what <em> he </em>was feeling, he’d smile a bit and say that it was like a still-beating organ of some kind, visceral because of the knowledge that it made life tick. Constant and reassuring and always there. Maybe it was more akin to the success at chasing away an unwanted thought, or surfacing from a lake and feeling the cool and light breeze, or opening a window at four in the morning and seeing the highway lights and listening to the traffic while safely in bed.</p>
<p>Their hearts were the same, but the words were not alike. </p>
<p>They didn’t need to be.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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